


no place safer than the fire

by lonelyghosts



Category: We Know the Devil (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Self-Harm, red ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyghosts/pseuds/lonelyghosts
Summary: Jupiter just wants to let go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like .... 15 minutes so its very shitty obviously but i just wanted to cry about jupiter aka How The Fuck Is This Exactly Like Me.

She sees it throughout the entire evening. How they look at her. How she is shrieking silently. Awkward jokes landing flat. She wants to vomit in the tiny bathroom but she doesn't- just shivers and tries to pray. 

Her prayers have always been incoherent. Messes of  _hurt hurt hurt_ and  _please make it stop_ and  _god are you listening? please?_. Saintly, she reminds herself. Be saintly. 

Jupiter's whole body hurts. It feels like stars are cutting open her skin. 

When she comes back out she forces a smile and Venus only looks up, curious, before turning away. Doesn't say a word, because why would Jupiter need help? Neptune doesn't look up at all.

Jupiter tries to convince herself it's okay. She fails miserably. 

Don't talk as much, she tells herself. Maybe it's the talking. It's probably the talking. She talks too much. Be quiet, her mother is saying. Just shut up, Jupiter, no one wants to hear what you have to say. You fucking brat. 

Jupiter scrapes open her lip with her nails. It bleeds onto her fingernail and dries there, her bloody hands. 

She's not supposed to hurt herself like that anymore, but in this cold lonely cabin where there is only room for two, the only warmth & company she'll get will be her own blood. If she had her razors around she'd already have ripped open her skin and poured the contents on the floor. This is the best she has. 

The razors are back home. The blood drips off her lip as Venus gets out the radio, and she snaps the hairband again so hard it leaves a raised welt that will purple by morning. If she makes it till morning, that is. 

God, why is she like this. Her pathetic fucking throat keeps on closing up. She's so scared of it closing. She's so fucking scared-

Why did she even try praying, anyways? What God would listen to a girl like her, all ripped up clothing and skin and heart? St. Peter'd take one look at her and recoil. What a fucking joke. 

The radio glitches static. She wants to crush it. Please, God, she's whispering. She doesn't want to pray. She doesn't want to have to beg for this but she's doing it anyways. Please don't say my name, please Father, Son, Holy Ghost, anyone that is listening, please-

God says her name and so does the Devil. Two voices in honey and static and she feels the tears bubble up. The urge to touch. To be touched. She wants to stop feeling her body.

Why did her mother even send her to this camp when she knew her daughter'd fail her? It was all she'd ever do, keep on letting them down and down till they lowered her to her grave. She wants to be lowered into the grave. 

Why should she even try being good at this point when she knows she'll fail? She's wrong to want them. She's wrong to want to be seen. She's screaming her own name silently. Why not be wrong with the most horrid of them all.

If all this is wrong, it's too bad. She wants it so much. She wants so much. If the devil is the only one who'll give her anything, then so be it.

There is no place safer than the storm. There is no place safer than the blood. She opens her eyes and reaches out her thousand blood-covered hands and lets the devil in.


End file.
